


Isn't it Ironic?

by CountlessUntruths (KaliCephirot)



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, House M.D.
Genre: Gen, House Being House, Humor, L being L.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-23
Updated: 2007-09-23
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/CountlessUntruths
Summary: It's supposed to bevacations.It's a no-healing time. He won't even get paid!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bastard+Bastard= Never EVER trying to do this again.

** Isn't it Ironic? **

Technically, it wasn't as if he had to say a thing. He _still_ was on vacations and he would be until the moment he put the cane in the hospital. So, at the moment, he _wasn't_ a doctor, technically. And it wasn't as if he was going to get _paid._

On the other hand, with this the flight would go late. Perhaps too late. Perhaps late enough that he could get another all-paid-expenses-day here at England. It wasn't somewhere sunny, mind, but surely Cuddy would just _love_ to learn his reasons. Perhaps he could get another week if he played his cards as he should.

But still. It was the principle of the thing. Vacations were supposed to be a no-healing thing. That was what _vacations_ meant.

A brat sitting by his side in the most possible ridiculous way ever reached to call one of the hostesses over.

“Excuse me,” he said in a English with no trace of accent whatsoever, chewing on his thumb. “I'm afraid that the man with the beige suit on the first row is about to suffer a cardiac arrest. I'd say in ten minutes, or probably just as we're done with the-”

“... that isn't a nice thing to say,” the hostess gave a nervous laugh, interrupting the brat. The man's wife looked worried, and so did the man.

“I apologize,” the brat said. He seemed as sorry as House did when he managed to miss clinic work. “But the chances I'm correct are over a 90%. Perhaps the doctor would confirm it?”

And the brat turned dark eyes towards him. House glared at him before he gave a deep sigh.

“Tattletale. Yeah, yeah, I'm a doctor, and he's right,” he waved a hand towards the fatty, even as the man stared. “He obviously enjoys eating and he has nicotine stained fingers and last but not least he's been massaging his left arm since he sat down.” House turned towards the brat. “I bet you five bucks that it starts in less than seven minutes.”

The brat didn't have any chance to answer, because by then the man had clutched a hand to his chest, eyes wide and frantic and the hostess screamed. House sighed again because knowing that he was a doctor, everyone was looking at him. He finally stood up, limping towards the man to start CPR.

By the time the paramedics arrived, the flight got rescheduled for the next day and House could finally give up the care of the man to someone else, the kid had disappeared _without_ paying him, dammit.  



End file.
